Virtues of Patience
by PassionateSoul
Summary: Here comes a shocking twist; Lyle's getting married! She's already been introduced to Dad, too! Anyone think something's up? Jarod does, and he's going to figure out what. It's The Pretender to the rescue!
1. Humility

**This is a work of (fan) fiction. I own nothing.**

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><p>Patience knelt at the pew before the Euchrist. Her longtime friend and confidant, Lyle, knelt next to her on her left side. He took her hand and threaded his fingers with hers, placing an unexpected kiss on the back of it. She didn't mind. After weeks of begging and pleading with him, he had finally broken down and come to church with her. After all, she did live across the street from it, and lately he'd been spending a lot more time with her. After what they had been through; her headaches, his mysterious disappearingreappearing act, her stay at the psychiatric ward, his refusing to tell her about his past or the suited men who seemed to follow him. She was surprised that they were still friends. There were so many secrets between them. She still hadn't asked about where his thumb went. She was a little afraid to. But now, everything was getting back to normal. As the priest started to pray over the communional wine, Lyle leaned towards her.

"I have something to ask you." He whispered into her ear.

"Can it wait until after the service?" She whispered back.

"It's really important. I've been thinking about this for a long time. If I don't ask you now, I'm afraid I'll never get to." She felt him slip something onto her ring finger. She looked at their clasped hands to see he had given her a beautiful diamond ring. An engagement ring. "I know this is a little odd, but you're the only woman I keep coming back to. I feel like there's something missing when I'm not around you. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" She stared at the ring, then at his pleading blue eyes.

"This is...I don't...Yes! Yes I will!" Her answer just popped out. He lit up at her answer, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. It was a nice kiss, gentle and sweet, but it was missing something. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure emerge from the confession booth. Odd, there weren't any confessions during Mass. She pulled away from Lyle and focused on the figure. It was a decon wearing an ordinary black cassock. Tall, slender, and dark, she had not seen his strong-boned, rectangular face in the church before. She would have known if there was a new decon, she was here so often. And why wasn't he sitting in front with the priest?

"That's strange, isn't it?" She turned to Lyle. His gaze was focused on the decon. He had a cold look on his face that she hadn't seen since he'd gotten a phone call on his cell about a pretender project. He'd broken her hallway mirror in anger before he stormed out. She hated to see him this way now. The decon glanced at Lyle, winked one dark eye, and disappeared behind the alter.

"Come on. We have to go." he snapped, grabbing her arm roughly as he got up. She resisted his crushing grip.

"Ow! Lyle, that hurts!" She cried, trying to keep her voice down. Some of the other parishoners looked at them curiously. Her voice seemed to snap him out of his fury.

"I'm sorry." He said, letting go of her arm and gently rubbing the red finger marks he made on her skin. "I have to leave. I'll see you at lunch. My place. I'll fix you something apologetic." He kissed her on the forhead. He was his usual self again. She smiled up at him.

"Okay. One 'o'clock. Be careful." He smiled and kissed her on the mouth. She closed her eyes this time, hoping to feel something. He was down the aisle in a flash, whipping out his cell phone and dialing as quickly as possible.

"It's Lyle. I need a Sweeper team ASAP..."

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><p>"Lyle has a girlfriend?" Ms. Parker asked, shocked. It was quitting time at the Center. Sydney and Ms. Parker had just stepped into the elevator when Broots jumped in, out of breath, to dish out the latest hot topic of discussion.<p>

"I heard that they are affianced." Sydney added smoothly, pressing the 'Ground Floor' button.

"That means they're getting married." Ms. Parker said to Broots' confused look.

"W'well, n-not only that, b-but she's here now, meeting Mr Parker!" Broots struggled to get it out. It was freaky to think of Lyle with a signifigant other, much less a fiancée. The elevator signaled and the automatic doors opened. "Oh, look! There she is!" They followed Broots' pointing finger to see Lyle talking to Mr. Parker, his arm around the waist of a pretty, dark-haired woman. She was attractive in an inoffensive way. Her features were Irish in looks and flawless but clearly weren't Asian. Her plain blue cotton blouse and worn jeans were fashionably relaxed without calling attantion. Her plain ponytail swayed as Lyle pulled her closer and planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. She giggled and swatted him playfully. All in all, she wasn't remotely extrodinary. Besides the fact that Lyle was intent on marrying her.

"Let's see what baby brother's dragged up from the sewers." Ms. Parker said, striding towards her father.

"It's not a problem, Dad. Patty and I haven't discussed a date just yet." Lyle was saying.

"I was thinking maybe in June." The woman added before Ms. Parker decended on them.

"Good evening, Daddy." Ms. Parker said to her father.

"Hey there, Angel." He said jovially, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Have you met Lyle's fiancée yet?"

"Can't say that I have." She said with a chilling smile directed at her brother. Lyle rolled his eyes. He looked like he swallowed something foul.

"Parker, this is Patience Gonzales, my fiancée. Patty, this is my sister, Ms. Parker." He said tonelessly.

"I guess first names aren't a family trait?" She asked jokingly. Even her voice was agreeable. Mr. Parker chuckled. Ms. Parker noticed a silver cross around her neck. "It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Parker. Maybe we could go for lunch sometime soon? You can tell me some embarrassing stories about Lyle. It'll be fun."

"Yes, that _would_ be fun." Ms. Parker's smile turned vicious.

"Patty, you don't have to-" Lyle began, looking worried, but she hushed him.

"Your family is going to be my family. I'd like to get to know them." Their eyes met, a soft look on Lyle's face. "Besides, I've always wanted a sister." She smiled at Ms. Parker. Then she caught sight of Sydney and Broots, who had followed Ms. Parker unnoticed. "Oh, hello."

"These are my sister's collegues, Sydney and Broots." Lyle said, pointing them out for Patience. "Guys, this is Patience."

"N-nice to m-meet you." Broots stuttered, his palms sweaty. Patience looked at him with sympathy.

"A pleasure." Sydney gave her a quick peck on the knuckles.

"So, how exactly did you meet my brother?" Ms. Parker interjected.

"Oh, we met a long time ago at a convent in-"she began, but Lyle cut her off.

"I thought we were going to dinner with Dad?" he asked her. She smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry. I almost forgot. You're more than welcome to join us, Ms. Parker."

"Much as I like seeing my dear brother squirm, I'll have to pass." Patience looked confused, but let it pass.

"It was nice to meet you all." She shook hands with everyone one last time and left with Lyle and Mr. Parker.

"She seems like a very nice young woman." Sydney said thoughtfully.

"'Nice', my ass. Lyle's up to something." Ms. Parker hissed.

"She also seems religious. I couldn't help but notice the crucifix around her neck." He continued. "I've seen it before somewhere. It's so familiar..."

"It didn't keep away from the vampire known as Lyle." Ms. Parker muttered. "Broots, I want you to find out all you can on this Patience Gonzales."

"But Ms. Parker, my work day just ended-" He began, but Ms. Parker glared at him.

"Do you want me to end your _life_?" She hissed. He shook his head and scurried back to the elevator.


	2. Kindness

**This is a work of (fan) fiction. I own nothing. I figured someone had to take care of Mr. Lyle after Ms. Parker shot him.**

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><p>When Patience walked into the church on Wednesday, the familiar feeling of peace washed over her. The niggling headache, which always came after a journal-writing episode, instantly lightened. This chapel, any house of God, was the only place she could relax completely. She headed to her usual spot; two pews from the front on the left hand side next to the secondary enterance. She knelt down, rosary in hand. Today was especially difficult. Her head had felt like it would have exploded after this past episode. She took a deep breath and started to pray.<p>

"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth..."

Minutes passed. Her mind started to wander, as it did while in the middle of a Decade. It was so strange, the thought of marrying Lyle. The proposal just came out of nowhere. Could she really become his wife? She had thought that their friendship was a bit off after the last time he reappeared. So many questions popped into her head as she started to go over that night in her head...

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><p>It had been months since his last weekend visit. It was by far the longest he'd stayed away. He didn't even send her his usual monthly postcard. They were always blank, save for a stamp from Delaware, but it was nice to know that he thought about her. She was half asleep on her couch, watching late night TV because of a nightmare she had that ended up in her journal, when she was jerked completely awake by someone pounding on her front door. She checked the time on her wristwatch that she forgot to take off. She stared at the blurry circle on her wrist before she remembered that she had been wearing her nighttime glasses. She grabbed them from their place on the floor before trying again. 2:42 am. Groaning, she hauled herself off of her couch and shuffled drowsily to her front door. She checked the peephole first. It seemed like no one was there. Another hammer at the door, this time not-so-loud. She opened the door, expecting some hooligan to be sprinting away. It was Lyle, but not his normal self. He was leaning against the door when it opened. He stumbled into the apartment, practically collapsing on Patience.<p>

"_Lyle_! What- What happened to you?" She cried. He clapped his right hand against her mouth.

"...quiet Patty..." He mumbled, resting his head against her shoulder. His hand slipped from her mouth and dangled at his side like a rag doll's. She dragged him inside. His clothes were waterlogged, rivulets creating a puddle on her hall carpet. She helped him lean on the wall, afraid that if she let him go, he'd fall. With a swift kick, she closed the door. He dropped to his knees at the loud **_slam_** of the door, breathing in wheezing gasps. She knelt next to him, trying to turn his head so she could look at her. His skin was almost too hot to touch. His glassy eyes tried to focus on her.

"Good Lord, Lyle! You're soaking wet and burning up." She muttered, tugging off his overcoat with difficulty. The wet fabric made teeth-clenching squeaks when it dragged over the fabric under it. He raised his hand to touch her face.

"...Patty, *_huff_, _huff*_...Patty..." He gasped. She shushed him.

"It's all right now. Ssh, it's all right." He hugged her, his head dropping back onto her shoulder. She held him, not caring that his wet clothes were soaking her thin cotton pajamas. With a great heave, she got him back on his feet. "Come on, lean on me. Let's take you to the bathroom and get you dried off." She practically carried him, his arm draped over her shoulder, the whole shuffling length to the bathroom. "Come on. One foot in front of the other." She encouraged him. He stumbled a couple of times and she almost dropped him once.

"I...di-did-dn't _*huff*_...know where..._*huff, huff*_...else tuh_-...*hiss*_ to go..." He tried to explain as she set him, lid down, on the toilet. She hushed him again. In the bright white-tiled bathroom, she could see how grimy the water he'd been in was. The wet patches on her light blue pjs made brackish brown stains. She balanced him against the wall and started to draw him a bath. It was lucky that she snagged an apartment with a decent-sized bathtub. The hot water filled the room with a muggy steam, fogging up the mirror and her nighttime glasses. She pushed them up on top of her head to get them out of the way. She grabbed a handful of towles from her bathroom closet before kneeling next to him again. He really looked awful, covered in dirt and red in the face. She struggled with the knots on his formal shoes, finally getting them off with a sucking _pop_. Socks followed. Next, she peeled off his jacket, pausing to untie his tie. His dress shirt came next, followed by his undershirt. There was now a pile of sopping male clothes tossed wtih precision in front of her washer. She was now grateful that her laundry room was across the way from her bathroom. She had often complained of the water heater being too close and scalding her in the mornings. She'd never make that complaint again. She grabbed a towel from the folded pile and started drying him off. The towel got dirty quickly, so she switched to washclothes. She smelled motor oil.

"What did you do, fall into a harbor?" She asked him as she wiped his face gently with one of her soft washcloths. He let out a wheezing chuckle.

"You-...you kuh-could... say that." He mumbled, his head dipping backwards to rest on the porceline back. She grinned, then gasped as she saw the dirty bandages wrapped around his left hand. He tried to pull it away, but she grabbed his arm. "Lyle, let me see your hand." she ordered. Quickly, she unwrapped the many layers of gauze. Only the outer layer was filthy. Underneath all of it was an open wound where his thumb used to be. Her stomach churned. She repressed her nausea and examined it carefully. The slice job was horrible. They had cut through the first phalange closest to the flexible joint. She grimaced at the exposed bone. It had to be agonizing to have the marrow rubbing against the bandages, blood oozing up from it almost constantly. She took a deep breath and got out her first aid kit from under the sink.

"This might sting a bit." She told him as she opened a bottle of iodine. He rolled his head to one shoulder, eyes closed. She could tell that he was weaving in and out of consciousness by the way his head bobbed. He flinched at the sting of astringent. She then rewrapped his hand carefully with clean, dry gauze. "All right. I need you to stand up." She told him, a blush starting to creep up her cheeks. She would have to take off his pants for him to get into the tub. He didn't answer. She reached up and patted him on the cheek. "Lyle?" No response. She swallowed. "R-...Robert?" Her stomach turned nervously. He had made her swear on her life never to use or tell anyone his real name. He stirred, opening his eyes slowly. She took that as a good sign. "Robert, I need you to stand up." She said clearly. "Do you hear me?" He nodded. She kept her eyes on the ceiling as she undid his belt and zipper, his forhead pressed against the side of her ear. His irratic breath hit her neck, smelling of sickness. Fortunately, he was wearing boxers. She figured that they were close enough to swimming trunks, so she left them on. She helped him into the tub, making sure he wouldn't slip under the waterline. She grabbed another washcloth and started cleaning him off properly. She blushed again as her hands went over his body. She had done this before, with the elderly and infirmed, but this was her friend Lyle, a full grown man that she's known half her life. She focused her thoughts back on the task at hand, making sure he was clean. He watched her blearily, moving himself when she told him to. His right hand reached up and caught a lock of her free-flowing hair.

"You're pretty with your hair down." He slurred. She shook her head. It was true that he had never seen her without her usual ponytail to keep her hair out of her way. She just figured he was delirious. Finished, she ordered him up and out of the tub. There was a wet _plop_ as he set his feet on the tile. She squeaked. His boxers had fallen off. She snatched a towel up and wrapped it around his waist, her eyes averted and her hands trembling.

"Are- are you feeling better?" She asked. He nodded. "Good. Bedtime. You'll sleep in my bed until you get better." She told him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder once again. It ws a little faster trek to her bedroom, where she had a double bed. His skin had gotten clammy after they left the sauna-like bathroom. She tucked him into her bed carefully, going to her closet to get a down comforter that she used in the winter. she was about to leave after she adjusted him on the pillows when he reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Patty," He said, staring at her. "Don't tell anyone I'm here. Not even your priest." She removed his arm and tucked it back under the covers.

"All right, Lyle. Just rest. No one will know you're here. Mums the word." He nodded and closed his eyes. She kept staring at him for a little while longer. It wasn't the first time he'd come to her hurt. This was the worst condition she'd seen him in, though. She pulled out her chair from the desk next to her bed and sat at his bedside, intent on watching over him. All night, if necessary.

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><p>As she finished the Hail Holy Queen, she got a tingling feeling, like she was being watched. She opened her eyes and looked around. The strange decon from yesterday was sitting right next to her and she hadn't noticed. Their eyes met. He smiled at her.<p>

"Am I disturbing you?" He asked. She liked his voice.

"No. I was just finished." She crossed herself and stashed her roasry in her jeans pocket. "I've never seen you in this parish before."

"I just arrived Sunday." He held out his hand. "Jarod Anthony."

"Like Saint Anthony. Patron saint of lost things." She said taking his hand. "I'm Patience."

"Aand are you?"

"What?"

"Patient, I mean."

"Some people say I was well-named, yes." She picked up her purse and started to head out. "It was nice to meet you, Brother Jarod." She waved and headed out.

"I'll see you soon, right?" He called.

"Every Sunday and Wednesday."


	3. Temperance

**This is a work of (fan) fiction. I own nothing.**

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><p>"What did you find, Broots?" Ms. Parker asked, leaning over his computer terminal. Broots nodded and set his fingers to the keyboard.<p>

"Ok, I put in a massive search and all I found was a record of a Mary Patience Gonzales, who was found at the age of four months in the trashcan of St. Catherine's Orphanage. She was put on the registry for adoption until the age of ten, when she was later put on the register of permanent residence in the nun's dormitory."

"She was a _nun_?" She asked, shock written on her face.

"O-only in t-training. She was a novice to the Mother Superior until she entered high school. At the age of fifteen, she enrolled in a public high school. She had an exemplary record until she was admitted into the psychiatric ward at St. Jude's hospital in Conneticut a year later."

"Lyle sure knows how to pick 'em." Ms. Parker hissed. "Mail-order brides and psychotic ex-nuns."

"Um, novice, Ms. Parker." She glared at him.

"Did you find any connection with Lyle?"

"That's just it! I can't find one thing that links the two; Their schools, their work records, their home addresses. Nothing overlapse! There is no way they could know each other. They couldn't even bump into each other on the street! They live in different towns in different states! There's no connection!" As he said it, Sydney walked in carrying an envelope.

"How goes the search?" He asked.

"We didn't find a damn thing." Ms. Parker said angrily. He chuckled.

"That's too bad. Ms. Parker, this has just arrived for you." He said, holding out the envelope. "It has Jarod's handwriting." Ms. Parker snatched it away and tore it open. It was a gray-scale photograph of Patience and Mr. Lyle crossing a street. They were holding hands, Mr. Lyle whispering in her ear and Patience laughing at whatever he said. Written underneath in bold letters was a message:

**DID BOBBY BOWMAN BAG A BONKERS BROAD? FIND THE FICKLE FACTS.**

"What an interesting use of alliteration." Sydney said, reading over her shoulder.

"Genius Boy is a regular Alfred Tennyson." She muttered.

"Why does Jarod want us to find out if she's bonkers?" Broots asked.

"I don't know, maybe Jarod knows she was...hospitalized..." It was like a light turned on inside Ms. Parker's head. She snapped her fingers at Broots.

"Read the details of her admittance to that psychiatric ward." Broots fingers went flying over the keys.

"Here it is: on May 17th on an end-of-the-year field trip to Yellowstone Park, she started to have hallucinations. Her classmates said she acted normal until she met the tour guide, Francis Trumon. There's no description of what she supposedly saw, only that she got violent with Trumon. She pushed him into an erupting geyser. Witnesses say she was accusing him of something. He was hospitalized with third degree burns for a month. There's a list of her treatments. It's all pretty standard stuff for schizophrenia. Therapy, medication. She was released months before the court-sanctioned release date. There was no repeat of violence, and her diagnosis was inconclusive. She's still required to schedule sessions with a therapist, Dr. Suzannah Garrison, once a month."

"Find out where she's practicing."

"The address is right here." Broots wrothe it down on a piece of paper. She snatched it up.

"Keep digging, Broots. Call us if you find anything." She turned to Sydney. "Come on, Syd. Time to pay a visit to the nut house."

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><p>There were long lines at the grocery store. Patience sighed and turned her cart down another aisle. She didn't mind waiting. She had to get some coffee for Lyle, anyway. She didn't drink it, but he did. He had called her this morning to tell her that he was coming over to spend the afternoon with her. As she grabbed a couple cans, she remembered when he gave her the coffee-maker on her birthday.<p>

"Just so I have something decent to drink when I come over." He said when she opened it. She smiled at the memory. It had been his way of saying that he would visit more often. In her musing, she didn't notice the cart in her path until she crashed into it.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, backing up. And then she noticed the person behind the cart. "Brother Jarod! It's nice to...uh..._run into_ you again." He chuckled at her joke. He was dressed in normal clothes this time; gray t-shirt, jeans and a brown coat.

"It's nice to see you, too, Patience. What are you doing?"

"Oh, just picking up some stuff to tide me over until payday."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a nurse at St. Monica's."

"That must be very rewarding work." He glanced down at her cart. "You must really like coffee."

"That's not for me. It's for my fr-...My fiance. I can never remember what kind he likes."

"He's a very lucky man to be loved by such a considerate woman." Patience blushed at his compliment.

"Yeah I guess." Jarod frowned as he took a closer look at the label on a plastic bag in her cart.

"Gummy...worms?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Oh, yeah." She picked up the package and handed them to him so that he could take a closer look. "I have a weakness for any kind of gummy candy. I gave them up last year, for Lent. I thought I'd go crazy."

"So these are candy shaped like something that most people find disgusting?"

"Pretty much."

"Can you catch candy fish with them?" She laughed. He sounded like a little boy.

"Maybe Swedish fish." He smiled at her and handed back the candy. She turned her cart around. "Anyway, I have to go I'll see you later."

"On Sunday, right?" She smiled at him.

"Why don't you come around the hospital at around two and we'll grab some sandwiches? I can tell you a little something about this town."

"That sounds great! I'll se you then." With a wave, he turned his cart and moved out of the aisle.

Patience was putting away the groceries when someone knocked at her door. She shoved the rest of the coffee in the pantry quickly and answered the door. It was Lyle. He was leaning his left forearm against the doorway, his usual I'm-so-charming-you-like-me-you-know-you-do smile in place. a plastic shopping bag dangled from his right hand.

"An apology for not being around much this week." He said, handing her the bag. Inside were some candles with St. Jude and a box of incense.

"You remembered." She took in his clothes of choice. "Wow. Plaid shirt and blue jeans. Very relaxed." He looked down at his clothes.

"Do you have a problem with the rustic look?"

"No, I don't. I was just thinking that the only time you dress like that is when you go off to play Rambo in the woods. What's the occasion?" He pushed off the door and stepped into the hall.

"Well, we haven't spent any time just relaxing, and I thought we could just stay here for the afternoon. Pop some popcorn and watch one of those awful made-for-TV movies that you like?" He walked past her and tapped her nose playfully. "You still like kettle corn, right?"

"Since junior high." She assured him, leading him into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" She asked as she stashed his gifts in a drawer.

"Oh, I don't know. What do you have?"

"Let me see. I just went shopping." She checked her cabinets. "I have French Roast, Turkish Blend, Decaf, mint, orange blossom, rasberry and green tea. I also have some soda if you want."

"I'll just have some French Roast." As Patience bustled about making drinks, Lyle lounged on the couch, watching her every move. Once they were ready, she came in to the living room. She had a coffee mug and teacup on a tray, along with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of chips.

"Coffee for Lyle," She handed him the mug. "And raspberry tea for me." She set the tray on the side table next to him. He picked up the chips bag and studied it.

"What are these supposed to be?" He said as he opened them and held out a french-fry shaped chip.

"Shrimp-flavored chips." She said. She took one and popped it into her mouth. "From Japan. They're very good. And I know you like Asian food." He gazed affectionately at her.

"Don't buy food on my account."

"Too late." She snatched the chip from his fingers and fed it to him. "Besides, they taste great." He nodded half-heartedly as he chewed.

"It has a..._unique_ flavor." He said once he swallowed. She rolled her eyes.

"Well, _I_ like them." Their eyes met. His eyes wandered to her mouth, his lips parted slightly. She blushed, turning away and flipping on the TV. "S-so what do you-...What do you want to watch?" She asked nervously. He leaned back, resting his arms around the back of the couch.

"Whatever. You pick." She flipped to a movie called 'St. Elmo's Fire'. After an hour or two of watching the antics of the recent college graduates, he slowly tugged the remote away from her and turned the TV off.

"Hey! I was-" she started, but his arm was around her shoulder, pulling her closer. He tipped her chin to look at him, his gaze hot. She closed her eyes. He leaned in and kissed her gently, slowly, each long kiss punctuated by smaller kisses. A warm feelng spread from her stomach to all over her body, her skin tingling. She felt herself being leaned back until she was laying down on the couch. He was heavy, but comfortably so. He pulled back, taking in her flushed face. He stroked her cheek with his left hand.

"You are so pretty..." He whispered huskily, his other hand stroking the top of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut as she put her hands on his shoulder. He trailed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She felt him tugging on her blouse.

"Lyle.." She whimpered. "Stop...Please..."

"It's all right. We're engaged." He breathed into her collarbone. She shivered. It was hard to think with his weight on her. She didn't know whether to push him away or pull him closer. Then there was a sharp, stinging tug on her shoulder. She cried out in pain, her eyes flyng open. He sat up quickly, a smear of blood on his lower lip. She pulled her collar away, which was easy considering that he had managed to unbutton her blouse without her knowing. A small oval of centimeter-long cuts under her right collarbone were oozing droplets of blood, some leaving vivid red streaks as they ran down her skin. The skin around them was already turning red.

"You bit me?" She was more shocked than angry.

"I-I'm sorry!" He said, wiping her blood off his mouth "I-I just...got...carried away." He avoided her eyes. She sighed and sat up.

"I'm not mad. Really, I'm not." She got up and went to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" He called.

"I need a bandage." While she was applying an extra-large Bad-Aid to her shoulder area, Lyle came in and leaned against the doorway of the bathroom. He had a sorry, hangdog expression. She buttoned her blouse and turned to face him. "Do we have to have this conversation again?" She said desperately, wringing her hands. He looked down and pushed off the doorway.

"No, we don't." He muttered. "You've explained, in detail, why you won't move in with me or why I can't move in with you." She blushed.

"I also think we should wait until our wedding night." She said briskly as she straightened her shirt. He looked up at her.

"So that's your honest opinion?" He asked, taking another step into the bathroom.

"It jsut seems appropriate." She said. He studied her, lips pursed in thought.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we should wait. It's not like we won't have time for it once we're married." He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. She relaxed, feeling safe in his arms. "You know I would never hurt you intentionally." He whispered into the top of her head. She closed her eyes.

"I know." She said confidently. "You're not a violent person, Lyle."


End file.
